


Hold Myself Together

by SansyFresh



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Bro AU, Bad Bro Red, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happiness, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: After years and years andyearsof hate, well... anyone would crack.A rewrite of my fic Hold Yourself Together





	1. Late night sobriety

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a long time coming guys lol I've had this first chapter written and rewritten since early last year. I wasn't very happy with how HYT turned out, so I decided it needed an overhaul! I hope you all enjoy ^^

The snow fell in thick chunks from his boots as he knocked them against the front step, his grimace softening as the warmth inside slowly thawed his near frozen bones. It was a comforting feeling, the slow spread of artificial heat over his body as he took off his heavy jacket, hanging it on the wall hook next to the door. His boots were left against the wall, the remaining snow melting in little puddles into the carpet. He’d clean it up later.

Standing in the middle of the living room, he took in the trash and clothing spread around the couch and laying on top of the shitty tv, listening carefully. There was no skeleton sitting on the couch in a half drunk daze shouting at him to fix the tv, no strange noises coming from the bedroom to the right upstairs, and Sans’ boots and coat were missing, making it a safe bet that it was a bar night.

Most nights were bar nights, not that Papyrus was complaining.

After nothing but silence, he sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before padding to the kitchen, eyelights landing on the large stack of reports he was to fill out. Might as well get a start on those, maybe with a drink of his own to soften the repetivity. Rummaging through the fridge brought up a bottle of hot sauce, weak stuff but strong enough that he’d get a decent buzz out of it. He ignored the way his gloves slid down as he reached for it, ignored the scars and rigid lumps from breaks long ago. They didn’t matter anymore.

Searching through the fridge brought little else in the way of sustenance, mostly containing old take out boxes and the rare plastic container of spaghetti. He tried not to feel guilty that he hadn’t eaten it.

Settling into a seat, his bottle of sauce in hand, he stared down at the first page, a detailed account of a child’s dust found on the edge of the forest. The next was a stained rendition of why one of the dogs was now missing a finger. An account of how many had dusted at Grillby’s last brawl. Another child. Another fight, another “accidental” dusting because of an argument, another brawl at Grillby's, this time with his brother. A report written in his brother’s unintelligible scrawl saying that he’d had to put a few monsters in their place.

Setting the papers back in a pile, Papyrus rested his head in his hands. Taking a moderate breath, he sat back and took a large swig of sauce. It was the same thing, most every day. Death and mayhem, monsters unchecked and those who were supposed to protect them goading the violence. He was only one skeleton in the Underground, there was little he could actually do to help them all.

Glancing at the living room, his eyes avoiding the front door, he felt anxiety coil around his soul. There was even less he could do to help himself.

Picking up a pen, he began signing the reports, dating them evenly and avoiding the actual contents of each account. Page after page, signature after signature, his headache growing slowly into a migraine of fierce proportions. Eventually he stopped, cradling his skull in his gloved hands, gently smoothing the tips of his fingers against the bone. The motions helped a little, but sitting here in the harsh light, signing page after page of nothing but death and misery was doing nothing good for the pounding.

There was so very little the guard, of those who cared, could do to stem the tide of hopelessness that had taken over monsters. It  _ was  _ hopeless, and they all knew it. The remaining hope to be had was that somehow, their king would save them. Unfortunately, Papyrus knew better than most that Asgore couldn’t save them. The old king had fallen low under the pressure of ruling a kingdom that had fallen to the darkness, his fur grey and eyes ashen.

Asgore had not been seen outside his castle in over half a century, and that fact wasn’t about to change now. Not when the death rates were rising, the people starving in the streets. Kids dusting because they didn’t have parents who were willing or able to keep them safe.

It might have been easy to hate him, had Papyrus been a lesser skeleton. He understood, though. Nothing could be done, not anymore. Getting to the Surface meant nothing but death. Staying here meant nothing but death.

He was sat back in his chair, hand gripped loosely around the bottle of sauce, eyelights hazed around the edges. He didn’t know why he tried anymore, really. Maybe some naive hope that his brother would accept him before the end. 

Damn, he needed to stop drinking, it was doing him no favors.

Sighing, he shoved the remaining reports to the side, gripping his bottle a little tighter as he kicked back his chair and slowly began shuffling his way to his bedroom. The stairs presented a bit of a challenge, though hanging onto the railing with most of his negligible weight helped. He nearly dropped his bottle once, fingers tightening just as it began to slip. Finally, he made it to his room, the door squeaking as it swung on rusty hinges, revealing a modest, clean space.

He didn’t have much to call his own, but the pirate flag Undyne had brought to him from the Dump and his computer, often hidden away in his closet under some old blankets, were cherished possessions. Sans didn’t care much about the flag, but if he’d seen the computer… well, there was a reason it stayed in the closet. 

Setting his drink on the desk, Papyrus sat on the edge of his bed, the coils creaking loudly as he sank down. The migraine was starting to ebb now that he was in relative darkness, though it still pulsed at the corner behind his left brow. Taking one more swig of his drink, he laid back on the bed, pulling one of his remaining sheets up to his chin, rolling over into the one position he felt safe in; facing the door.

With a flick of his magic, it locked.


	2. A day with the Captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter!!! yay!!! im not sorry
> 
> enjoy ^^

Light pierced through his clenched sockets, Papyrus rolling over on his bed to try and keep himself from being blinded. The migraine was gone, replaced with a faint ache any time he moved his skull too fast and, apparently, a severe sensitivity to light. Bringing a trembling hand up to the socket not stuffed into his pillow, he gently caressed the scarred bone. Not too painful to touch. He could go on his monthly excursion to Undy- the Captain’s home, as long as he went quickly. Based on the light coming through his window… Sans would be up soon.

Rolling off his bed, he landed on light feet, hurrying to his closet even as he slipped off his shirt and leggings from the day before. A simple black shirt and his only other pair of pants were soon pulled on, his scarf, the one treasured thing from his childhood, settled around his throat. Turning to his door, he paused as he began to undo the lock, fingers resting lightly on a slightly turned knob. Someone had attempted to unlock his door last night. Really, there was no contest as to who would try something like that, which meant he really needed to leave. Now.

Gathering his anxieties and pushing them down as far as he was able, Papyrus unlocked his door and crept out onto the balcony, shutting his door without a sound before creeping his way down the steps. Avoiding the last, as it squeaked the more weight you put on it, he pulled his jacket and boots from their places and ignored the smell of booze and sex that pervaded the entire house. Picking up the stack of papers from the kitchen table, shuffling through the first few until a loud creak sounded from just above him, Sans’ room. 

Eyelights near pinpricks and soul jamming his sternum, Papyrus hurried to the front door, unlocking everything and slipping out just as the still slurred “Papyrus-” came from upstairs. 

He was nearly halfway through Waterfall when he could breathe again, his soul pounding fiercely in his chest as he let his sockets close, his chest heaving with unneeded breaths. The fear that had filled his nasal passage and flooded his skull was beginning to ebb away, leaving a hollow ache from the base of his neck to the tip of his nasal aperture. Part of him was surprised Sans had let it go that easily, almost wondered if possibly… but no, nothing serious could be wrong with Sans. He was likely still somewhat intoxicated from the night before, and that was all.

The Captain's home was a few tunnels away, Papyrus taking his cautious time as he finished the journey through, boots splashing through puddles and small streams that overran the banks of the rivers and waterfalls. It was a quick trip even with his mind on other things, but maybe that only made it more swift. 

Undy-The Captain’s house was as formidable as always, the eye-like windows glaring out at him in an attempt of intimidation. It may have worked on a lesser monster, and even now after his fear-fueled sprint he felt the effects; but still he trudged forward, standing tall in front of her door as he knocked three times, each making the solid door rattle the tiniest bit. 

There was no answer but silence, but Papyrus leapt back just as the door popped open, spears flying out in near every direction. The ones that got close were easily parried away, Papyrus allowing a small grin of triumph even as a wiry arm wrapped itself around the back of his neck, rough knuckles rubbing over the crown of his skull. 

“Captain, someone might  _ see- _ !” 

Undyne just laughed, dragging him inside even as she glanced around for any shining eyes from the darkness. “As if anyone’s dumb enough to try and take us both on  _ before  _ training, nerd.” She let him go as soon as her door was once again shut; it’d take the forces of hell to get it open again. 

Papyrus dusted off his jacket, grimacing as the movement pulled at his spine. He hadn’t noticed the night before, nor that morning with the anxiety and sauce still pulling at his mind, but there was probably some kind of crack along the disks in his spine. Possibly something he’d gotten while stopping a fight the day before? Either way it didn’t matter much, there was little he could do to heal himself.

Undyne seemed to notice his discovery, however, her arms crossed as she gave him a thorough looking over. “Two new cracks on the back of your skull, three scratches on your boots… and I’m guessing someone finally got you from behind?” She was grinning maniacally as he sputtered, her arms uncrossing and resting firmly on his spine, ignoring his squawk. “Better I heal it now and you don’t just keel over in the middle of a fight, asshole. Now sit still.” 

Papyrus grumbled under his breath, hissing when the overwhelming green magic started to course through his mana lines, but he sat still for her as she continued to heal him. It didn’t take long to finish, the two of them moving apart but staying close even as he asked about his paperwork, acting enraged when he said he wasn’t able to finish it yet. It was an act he was used to from her, the two of them settling in at her kitchen table to finish things up and drink golden flower tea from the boxes she got from the king sometimes. 

It was… nice. Even something he looked forward to, when they had the time nearly once a month to do this. When Undyne had time out of her busy schedule being the Captain, and he could get away from Snowdin without... alerting Sans. Flinching from the thought like he’d touched a flame, Papyrus saluted back to a watchful Undyne as he rounded the corner from her path, heading back into the tunnels of Waterfall. 

It was another uneventful walk back to Snowdin, a few monsters making eyes in his direction but a quick flare of magic had them scurrying away quickly enough. The chill of Snowdin soon came around the corners of the tunnels, the white expanse greeting him like an old friend. It was only a quick walk up to the house, Papyrus waiting a moment on the porch to listen. The house was silent, so it was possible it was another bar night. He could only hope at least. 

Kicking his boots on the top step, Papyrus unlocked the door and moved inside, only to stop still at the sight of his brother, sitting on the couch, watching a muted TV.

“‘ey, Papyrus. Shut the door.”

Swallowing back the fear that crept up the back of his throat, he did.


	3. He cares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter!!! this one is a nice lil doozy from the last one lol
> 
> just as a note, Papyrus has grown up with Sans being the one that knows best. _he_ believes that everything Sans does is for his benefit. its obviously not true, but for Papyrus, its all he knows. its some truly deeply rooted mental abuse we have here, buds. just be aware of that, going forward.
> 
> enjoy!

Warm green magic made his marrow itch, his soul roiling in his chest as he breathed through the panic attack that pushed at the corners of his already fragile mind. He ignored the echoes of screams in his head, the echoes of something striking bone, of bones  _ breaking- _

He took a deep breath and pushed the panic away, pushed the boiling emotions away, until he was a false calm, evenly breathing and teeth firmly pressed together. Only his eyelights would have given him away, the dots a tiny, shaky crimson that were locked on his own hand. It hovered over his broken arm, healing magic slowly mending the bone until it snapped back into place with a sickening pop. 

After it was done, the tingling slowly leaving his limbs until he felt hollow, empty as he sat back in his bed, hands trembling as he grabbed his blanket from the edge of his bed and wrapped it around his head. It felt safer in here, away from his brother, away from the monsters of the Underground, away from anything and everything that could hurt him. Slowly, slowly, he started to really calm down, until all that was left was a pervading sense of guilt. 

Of course Sans had been angry, Papyrus had left without telling him where he was going or even if he was coming back. Sans had every right to be angry with him, and he’d deserved every bruise and break. He had to do better, be better. Sans relied on him working to keep the bills paid for and pantry stocked, since Sans had taken care of him when he was only a child and they lived on the streets. Papyrus owed him his life, and what more could he do but his very best to take care of everything else himself?

The sound of the front door opening made every bone that made up his body stiffen, the sound of Sans stumbling through the house and another voice following him even more so. Both voices were slurred, yet another horrible sign that he needed to lock his door and keep absolutely silent. His magic reached out without another thought, the lock on his door turning just as the duo began up the steps. 

He curled up, blanket pulled tightly around him as they came up the steps and passed his door, their voices making the tension in his soul coil tighter and tighter. He didn’t move again until Sans’ door slammed shut, the tension snapping as he stood on silent feet and left his blanket on the bed, opening his window with deft hands that only shook a little before slipping out. Being on the second floor meant nothing, Papyrus holding onto the edge of the roof as he shut his window and dropped down onto the powdery snow. 

Sans wouldn’t even know he left, he wouldn’t. His door was locked and Sans would have been way too drunk to teleport inside, even if he wanted to. Papyrus reminded himself that Sans would have no way of knowing he’d left again unless there wasn’t any breakfast on the table in the morning, which there would be. Papyrus would patrol the night, perhaps check up on the Dogi to see if their rehabilitation with Lesser had gained any ground, and he would return before Sans got up.

Sans would never know. He had nothing to worry about.

So why did his soul feel as though it was about to implode on itself in guilt and paranoia?

~.~

The night passed smoothly enough, though he had to stop once, hand gripping the rough bark of a tree to get his breathing back under control once he’d entered the forest proper. The Dogi had been pleased to see him, always calling him Pup and giving him a thorough sniffing before seemingly finding something that displeased them. Though they always seemed to get over it quickly, giving him wide smiles as he asked after Lesser and Greater, who were both out of commission from LV gain. 

He cared about the dogs, as much as he cared about most of the monsters of Snowdin. It hurt his soul to see the poverty and dust that littered the streets, to see the fear in the eyes of the children that stayed close to their parents. But in the end there was very little he could actually do to help them, other than trying to keep the woods clean of miscreants that would dust anyone to get a leg up in society. 

Once it was close enough to what passed as dawn, he crept back home, a box of dog treats from the Dogi couple in his inventory that he’d promised to eat. They’d been very particular that Sans not know about them, which made sense to him at least.

Once inside his own home once more, he set about preparing Sans a breakfast, though he’d likely scarf it all down or waste most of it and then head to Grillby’s for another meal in just an hour or so anyways. Not that it should matter, Papyrus reminded himself as he made a platter of eggs and sausage, along with three small pancakes that were swimming in gravy. 

Laying it on the table, along with a large mug of coffee, Papyrus grabbed a packet of plain oatmeal from the cabinet and cooked it, eating the scalding porridge and ignoring his burning tongue as he hurried to write a note, explaining that he had been called by Undyne to patrol the eastern sector of Hotland. Leaving it beside the plate of still steaming food, Papyrus slipped his gloves back on and, leaving one last glance toward Sans’ room, he headed out.

Surely Undyne would have some work for him, and if not, he could always look for more work around town. The rabbits always needed a heavy lifter, and perhaps Grillby would even have a few odd jobs he could do in the back. Grillby knew not to let Sans know when he was there, or that he came at all. 

It helped somewhat, having people that cared about him- Sans cared about him too. Just in his own way. He… he had to.


	4. Scarred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone that read the old version of this knows whats coming (Warnings in the end notes)
> 
> sorry not sorry
> 
> enjoy

It was a few weeks later that Papyrus came home to find the TV blaring, every single light in the house turned on, and Sans sitting at the kitchen table, a large bottle of whiskey in his hands. Papyrus could smell him from where he stood, a stinging mix of strong alcohol and cheap cigar smoke. A sort of fear gripped the base of his spine as Sans slowly craned his neck to look up at him, red eyelights flashing as his grin widened.

“Well, if it isn’t mah favorite brother. Where ya been, Paps?”

Papyrus hated how Sans said his name, never his full name, only that nickname that was said with nothing more than vitriol. It never failed to make him feel smaller than an ant beneath his brother’s boot, which was the point, surely. 

“I’ve been out on Guard duty, brother. You know this.” He kept his voice calm, emotionless, because any sort of show of nager on his part would only put him in bad places. He was tired, really, after a long day of slogging through snow and getting the dogs to do what they were supposed to be doing, helping whatever monster needed his assistance, even if they asked for it just to see him struggle with a large box or a heavy sack of grain. 

Sans scoffed, taking a long swig of whiskey that Papyrus pointedly didn’t wince at. More alcohol on top of what he’d previously had would only make him easy to piss off… and it seemed as if he was already on his way there. 

“Ya sure you weren’t hangin’ out with yer buddy Fishbitch all day? Paintin’ yer nails and primpin’ yer hair? I’s not like ya actually eveh do yer job, I gotta still sit out at that fuckin’ station few  _ hours  _ while yer galivantin’ around, playin’ house and shit!” Sans spat, eyelights filled with hatred as he focused his glare fully on Papyrus.

He was tired. And maybe that was why he could have been forgiven for his own mouth turning into a sneer, fangs grinding as he spat, “Yes, because you do little more than sleep at that station for no more than a half hour before you’re whoring at that nasty grease pit until-!” He was interrupted by a bone backhanding him across the face, knocking him off his feet.

Sans was standing in front of him, panting wildly as he stood over his little brother, Papyrus’ anger siphoned out of him like air. His hand was clutching the side of his jaw, where he was sure a tooth had been knocked loose, but Sans just stepped closer, eyelight burning with excess magic. 

“Tha’s what ya think a me, little brother? That I’m a lazy worthless sack a shit?” Sans asked, his voice quiet, terrifying. Sans brought a sharp bone to his hand, the tip jagged and sharp. Gently tracing Papyrus’ left socket, Sans’ grin sharpened. “I did everythin’ for ya, little brother. You must need’a reminder.”

~.~

He laid there, soul aching with a new, deep crack as he covered his left socket, trying to stop the marrow from getting everywhere. He was… empty. His thoughts dull, his soul aching but the pain had gone to the back of his mind, where the rest of his thoughts were. He didn’t want anything, didn’t need anything. He just was.

Sans had left hours ago, spitting down a wad of alcohol tinged magic before stumbling out of the house. Papyrus couldn’t even get up the effort to wonder if he’d be dusted in that state. Some part of him, a small one, felt a spark of something about that. The rest of him was too numb to really give it any consideration.

Undyne eventually found him like that, once the lights had dimmed and brighted at least twice. She kicked her way through the front door, stomping around the living room before coming to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway as she catches sight of him. She must think him weak, the worst kind of monster, but all she did was sigh and pick him up, taking him discreetly out of town and through the back tunnels of Waterfall to her home.

His socket was ruined. The eyelight was pale, not that he can see out of it, and there were three long scars that healed jaggedly under Undyne’s unpracticed hands. He was grateful nonetheless, and told her so. She gently cuffed him on the back of the head and tells him to rest up.

For three weeks he slept on her couch, washed her dishes, and helps her with Guard paperwork. Sans didn’t show up at all for that time, and Papyrus didn’t know if that was because Undyne was keeping him away (unlikely), or that… Sans just didn’t care anymore.

Undyne gave him a look some days, her one good eye crinkling at the corners. Fleshy monsters were weird. “Are you gonna dust him?” She’d ask.

He never knew what to tell her. He couldn’t tell the truth, that he still cared whether Sans lived or died. Or that, in some strange, almost ugly way, he still loved him. Sans was all he’d had growing up, all he’d had for years. Part of him just… forgave everything Sans put him through. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but that was why, when the thoughts slimed through his mind, he didn’t say them.

Undyne took the non-answer as an answer and left him alone about it. But he knew she wanted to do it for him. Knew that, if he asked, Undyne would happily kill his brother.

He didn’t know if he wanted that or not.

The day he finally went back to the house, he waited for Undyne to be gone on a mission in Hotland. She would have tried to stop him and this was something he needed to do. Entering the house, he found the large, now dried puddle of marrow he’d been sitting in. The living room was untouched, as were the bedrooms. 

Assuming Sans had just stayed with a friend, or even at Grillby’s, Papyrus went to ask, only to find out that no one had seen Sans in weeks. Not after the day he scarred him. 

He went back to Undyne's. And this time he stayed there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for:
> 
> -Graphic Violence  
> -Drunk Violence  
> -Mild Torture  
> -Broken Mental States
> 
> be safe guys


	5. domingo en fuego

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooooo next chapter!!! sorry about the wait lol on a writing marathon so this one is getting some more updates soon!!
> 
> enjoy the angst :D

Days, weeks, months passed and no matter who Papyrus asked, no matter who Undyne scared into “confessing”, Sans never came back. Somehow he felt sort of relieved at the realization that Sans probably would never come back. It was a mixed feeling, sweet and yet the most bitter thing he’d ever thought.

Of course, over the five or so years he’d been living with Undyne, working with the residents of Snowdin, and making his way up the line of the Guard, he’d eventually run out of time to think about Sans. 

Sans was dead. That was all there was to it.

He went on patrols with Undyne when she took the more dangerous patrols, fighting off the ruffians who thought they were above Asgore’s laws regarding slaves and children. It was sick, the places they found, the hovels they tore apart with their bare hands. The slaves were freed, the children sent to the palace until they could be found homes. 

Sans would have been right at home in some of them.

He’d been put in charge of the Dog Guard at some point, Undyne telling him to whip the nearly feral dogs into shape with whatever force necessary. Really though, it turned out to be as simple as showing them the respect they desired, and an absolutely absurd amount of daily pets. 

Sans would have called him weak for allowing them to bully him around.

Some days the Dogi would ask him to join them at Grillby’s for lunch, and, like always, he usually gave in. Grillby knew his regular order by the time he’d joined them for the fourth time, seeing as how a strawberry milkshake was the only thing he’d be able to stomach from the place his brother had loved so much. But the dogs wanted him to join them and he’d never been able to tell them no, so he went as often as they asked. Which, surprisingly wasn’t that often, by the standards of how often they went themselves.

Grillby… sort of understood. Why Papyrus asked occasionally, but always hopelessly if he’d seen Sans. Why Papyrus still cared. Still, this was the Underground, and emotions weren’t their strong suit. The way Grillby showed he cared was, on good days, Papyrus’ shake would have an extra cherry on the top. Papyrus always popped them one by one into his mouth, savoring the tart pop of each before he sipped at his milkshake with a grateful glance at the bartender.

Undyne was more like family than Sans ever was, Papyrus came to realize. She asked after him every day after patrol, healed what needed healed and then slapped him on the back so hard he wheezed. They’d make dinner together, her trust in him invaluable. Then they’d go off to their separate rooms, the room she added on for him after he’d been sleeping on the couch so long his body had made an imprint. 

She tried to convince him, more than once, that what happened wasn’t his fault. Not fully at least, she’d said, but he knew she didn’t think he was at fault at all, which was… untrue. If he’d tried harder, worked harder, helped his brother more with the alcoholism and the whoring around and the napping in open air, maybe things would be better than they were.

Maybe Sans wouldn’t have left him.

She stopped talking about it eventually, knowing how it made him less than active the rest of the day, and eventually… he stopped thinking about it. 

At least, until the day he returned to his old house and found a light on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we gon' burn the whole house down


End file.
